Comfort
by Lightish Red
Summary: A song ficlet that came to me as I thought of d'Artagnan and Jacqueline while listening to Mark Hildreth's Ready to Fall... Based off of the characters from PAXi's Young Blades television series.


This is a song ficlet exploring Jac and d'Art's feelings in the days following the death of Gerard. Credit for the beautiful song 'Ready to Fall' goes to Mark Hildreth, of course ;)

**Comfort**

Jacqueline stared up at the ceiling, shifting her weight on the bed to ease her sore back. A dull throb of pain radiated from her side, but that did not faze her anymore; she was too accustomed to her physical injury now. It was her soul, not her body, which was broken now.

Gerard was dead. She had coped with her mother's death by leaning on her father and brother. Her father's death had been dealt with by focusing on the rescue of Gerard and praying for his safety in America. The death of her brother, however, left no place for solace.

It was unnatural. Sure, a daughter could reasonably expect to outlive her parents, if not usually losing a father to murder, but a younger brother should not have to be mourned so early. It was just wrong.

It was Gerard. Jacqueline's eyes stung with unspilled tears. Her brother was her best friend, the person she could always depend on to love her unconditionally, the one who had grown up with her and would not betray her for anything. He was gone.

Jacqueline gently eased over on her good side. She had been lying in this bed for five days, Siroc's orders. He prescribed seven days of bed rest and three full weeks of 'limited exercise' as he called it, which Duval had interpreted as a month's leave. A month without work, without anything to keep her mind occupied; a month to relive Gerard's death. It was torture.

When Jacqueline was not thinking of her brother, her mind drifted to thoughts of her brothers-in-arms. Ramon and Siroc had seen her lying therein the cottage, helpless and bleeding and obviously a woman. Siroc had patched her up, of course, and she had ridden home feeling every bump in the road. Back at the garrison, she had been warmed by the toast they had offered her brother before sending her to her room. They had had the sense to hold off on questioning so far, but every time she heard a knock on the door, she feared that one of them had come to interrogate her.

Her fear would dissipate when they left. Ramon would only drop off a tray of food with a murmured condolence; Siroc would quickly check her wound's progress with a faint blush when he pulled her shirt up just high enough to see the line; and d'Artagnan would sit in a chair beside her bed, softly telling of the Musketeer antics of the day and simply holding her hand as she fell asleep.

She knew it must be d'Artagnan that kept them from questioning her. He was probably also the one who kept Duval from finding out her secret in this most vulnerable of times. But yet, when he held her hand, Jacqueline could not find it in herself to grip his fingers back. He still came back twice a day as his duty allowed, clasping her cold, limp hand in his strong, warm one and talking to her turned head.

Jacqueline knew that d'Artagnan would take care of everything.

----------

D'Artagnan was pacing the darkening halls of the garrison after a dull evening patrol with Denis; his replacement patrol partner was a fresh recruit who boasted too loudly of his gambling enterprises, the sole benefit being that the man talked so much that he did not notice that d'Artagnan was silent.

The legend's son had been able to focus internally, thinking of only one thing, Jacqueline. No matter how many times he went to see her, she remained as hard as a rock. She allowed him to touch her hand, even if she would not hold it back, which was a small beginning, but she refused to open up to him.

In his opinion, Siroc was wrong. This bed rest and leave idea was wrong. Hours alone in her bed only sent her further into this depression. She needed to be active, see life going on, and have a distraction from the pain.

If only she would cry. Jacqueline continued to hang on to her stoic 'Jacques' persona. D'Artagnan wanted to help her, but he could not bring up the subject himself. He could only wait beside her bed like a loyal dog, wait until she could trust him enough to talk to him.

He finally reached her door, locked as usual. But now, he had his own key which he proceeded to slide into the lock and turn, springing the mechanism with a small metallic click. D'Artagnan stepped into the room, quickly shutting and relocking the door behind him; he would not let carelessness endanger Jacqueline's already precarious position. When he finally faced her, he found his angel lying on her back, breathing the slow, regular rhythm of slumber.

He crossed the room silently, taking up his usual seat in the ladder back chair by her bed. Seeing her so peaceful for the first time in days brought him an inner peace as well. Daringly, he reached his hand out to stroke her raven hair.

i I found your hair on the edge of my sink br  
As I run it through my fingers br  
I stop and think how I miss you more than I ever thought I would /i

He missed his friend—his 'Jacques'—always ready with a snide comment but just as ready to risk her life to fight alongside him.

i I've only known you for oh so long  
And I don't want to jinx it  
But I can't help wondering why  
Why I feel love when I didn't think I could /i

D'Artagnan's long hours of sitting at her bedside only made clear what he had long known. He loved her. That word—love—the one he had always hated and feared. His mother said that love for his father kept her going while the man was out betraying her. The younger d'Artagnan never wanted to find this 'love' that blinded a good woman of her senses and left her lonely. Yes, love was surely a thing to detest.

i There's so many reasons for me to believe  
That I don't deserve what I got  
And what's scaring me the most  
Is wondering if you're ready to fall in love or not /i

But out of the sky this beauty had fallen, breaking all the rules and destroying what little d'Artagnan thought he knew about women. He did not deserve her love—he was a player, a cad, a scoundrel—but he wished now that he could erase all those other women and fill his heart with only Jacqueline.

As he gazed down at the object of his thoughts, his hopes fell. She was in no condition to see the love he felt for her; she was blinded by grief.

i Cause I will be ready to fall if you're ready to go  
And I will be ready to fall whether you're coming down oh no  
And I will be under the spell of a love I already know  
Whenever you're ready to go /i

"I can wait," d'Artagnan whispered to her sleeping form. He would wait as long as it took for Jacqueline to open up to him. She had captured him with those crystal blue eyes and smile that was anything but manly.

i I guess I just didn't realize  
How easy it is to open up my eyes  
To find the darkness is just me in the way of the light /i

For so long he had tried to pass her off as just another woman playing hard-to-get, one that would break soon and become another conquest. But she had a will of steel and it shocked him to find one day that she was not just another woman, but the love of his life. In fact, if anyone had referred to her in his presence as a 'conquest' he would have killed the man on the spot.

Jacqueline saved him from a downward spiral that he never knew he was trapped in. In trying to not be his father, in shunning love and changing women as often as he changed shirts, d'Artagnan was becoming his father, a man who cared only for himself. Jacqueline had changed him for the better.

i We're all alone by ourselves in this world  
But we're not if we don't pull ourselves out of things and watch  
I'll be with you when the day crawls out of the night /i

This past week had only strengthened his resolve, his desire to start a new chapter in his life with her by his side. He could not stand to see her suffer alone anymore. "Jacqueline," he murmured, "hold me, feel me. I am here; I am alive; I am flesh and blood right before you." She stirred slightly in her sleep, brow furrowing.

"You can spend the rest of your life living, or you can spend the rest of it dying. I will be here if you decide to live, but I cannot save you from death, not like this." He could help her heal, but only if she let him. D'Artagnan took up her hand as he did every time he visited. He wanted to make sure that she knew he cared.

i I love the night  
I love the night  
I love the night with you /i

As tired as he felt, d'Artagnan would not abandon his self assigned post. He was determined to stay with her, to be the first thing she saw in the morning. Maybe her sorrow could be lifted, if only for a moment, just knowing that d'Artagnan was still on earth with her. That she always had someone that loved her.

i And I will be ready to fall if you're ready to go  
And I will be ready to fall whether you're coming down oh no  
And I will be under the spell of a love I already know  
Whenever you're ready to go /i

He would wait. All night, all day—all his life if necessary. Whenever she was ready to fall in love, he would be waiting.

i Whenever you're ready to go  
Whenever you're ready to go  
Whenever you're ready to go /i


End file.
